


Gradients of Grey, Colours of Contentment

by silberblitzchen



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-08-24 09:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16637381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silberblitzchen/pseuds/silberblitzchen
Summary: Junmyeon can't percieve colour after an incident in his life that he cannot clearly remember.When he sees a woman in a red dress, his journey of rediscovering the colours of his life starts.Jongdae keeps close to him, trying to help him as best as he can, without knowing what he is in for.





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is not edited or beta-read yet. Please keep this in mind.  
> Mild warning: Mental illness, depression

Sunlight fell through the open curtains onto her face, half hidden in the white bedsheets. The sunlight coloured the room in different shades of orange and yellow. Her skin was glowing. The world was waking up. She didn’t. At least in his memories, he would always remember her asleep, the last time he saw her.

Nowadays it is rainy. Different tones of grey is the colour palette of his life. He can’t remember when it changed. A filter had been put over his eyes to desaturate everything. The bright reds and blues and yellows now all had grey cast over them. Only in dreams and memories he would recall colours. But now he is blind for them.  
He gets out of bed, not because he wants to, but because he needs to. He goes to work, not because he wants to, but because he needs to. He eats, but without tasting anything. He can’t remember when he last laughed, although he is sure it hadn’t been long ago. On a day when the filter hadn’t put so much grey over his vision.  
His flat mate, one of his few social contacts, has his life seemingly together. That’s at least what you think about a person who makes pancakes for breakfast every morning. Junmyeon eats the pancakes every morning, grateful for them, because he isn’t able to do that on his own. If Jongdae wouldn’t make breakfast, Junmyeon would probably only drink a cup of coffee and then leave for work.  
Every morning he tells Jongdae the pancakes taste perfect, even though he couldn’t tell the difference if they didn’t taste good. He just doesn’t taste much. On the dark grey days, he can’t even tell if they are sweet or savoury.

He commutes to work, every morning, 20 minutes in the busy circle line of Seoul. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of red on the metro, and can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.  
Junmyeon can’t remember what his life was before the grey, except in some dreams and the occasional bright red he sees. He can imagine. But colours still don’t come easy to him.  
He goes to art galleries, just to find that he can’t tell the emotions of the artist. He feels nothing. He listens to music, he understands the lyrics and what they are supposed to mean, but he can’t feel them. Jongdae tries to explain to him over and over again, with a patience never seen before in him. But Junmyeon just doesn’t feel it like Jongdae does.  
Jongdae is a musician. He writes hundreds of lyrics a day, just to toss them out because they are not the level of perfect he expects. Because Junmyeon doesn’t feel them. What a sad duo they are.

The breakfast pancakes taste a little sweet today. Jongdae thinks they aren’t good, but Junmyeon is glad about the little taste he got. This day won’t be as grey.  
Jongdae throws half his pancakes away and carries his morning coffee (black, no sugar, please) to the balcony that faces the courtyard of the apartment complex they live in. It’s a little cold outside, so Junmyeon puts one of the blankets from the sofa on the heater close to the balcony door.  
He leaves as Jongdae crumbles up the paper he’s been writing on and throws it into one of the plants on the balcony.  
On the metro he notices a little girl with a red bow in her ponytail. She is maybe 8 years old and she smiles at other passengers who reciprocate her smile.  
His co-workers all have names, but no feelings attached to them. He rarely joins the after-work drinking sessions and doesn’t talk to them except about maybe the weather and work. They sometimes try to take him along to dinners, one time an intern asked him on a date. He declines, friendly and steadily.  
Junmyeon is on coffee duty. Which means he has to go to the closest starbucks and get 12 americanos and wonder how one should carry them without spilling it everywhere. So far he usually manages. He still doesn’t know how.  
In the line behind him is a woman about his age, looking vaguely familiar. He barely registers her, until she breaks out in a laugh, so clear and pure, he could suddenly see the different colours around him. Colours as clear as the laughter, the bright yellow of the advertisement in the café, a little boy’s neon green toy, her light blue dress. It is over in seconds. Like a firework of colours, that had burned itself into the back of his head.

In contrast, everything seems even more grey than before he heard her laugh. Junmyeon comes home to find Jongdae exactly where he had left him. Jongdae was sleeping on one of the chairs on the balcony, cuddled into the blanket. His notebook is torn apart and spread around the balcony floor, his pen stuck behind his ear.  
Junmyeon puts down his bag, walks over to the balcony and starts picking up the crumpled papers Jongdae had thrown away in frustration.  
Jongdae just snores and shifts a little in the chair.  
Instead of waking him up, Junmyeon sighs and adjusts Jongdae’s blanket. What an idiot. Sleeping outside in the cold.

“I don’t think you ever talked about a woman before,” Jongdae says, as they sit over ordered Jajangmyeon on their sofa. Junmyeon had told him about the incident in the café. She reminds him of some distant memory, but he can’t exactly pinpoint it to any part of his life. The vague memory is colourful and happy. His heart aches.  
“I just never thought it was necessary for you to know,” he spins the food around in his bowl. Jongdae almost chokes on one of his noodles.  
“I’ve known you for what - 10 years now. And I’m hearing this for the first time ever.”  
“You never tell me about boys, so I thought this is just a topic we don’t talk about. Love, you know.”  
Jongdae hides his face by eating a bunch of noodles too fast. Junmyeon looks over to his flat mate, but Jongdae avoids his gaze.  
“I put all my feelings into my lyrics and melodies. I thought you might have guessed.”  
Junmyeon nods.  
“This means, you always get them first. Unfiltered. My feelings. All the bullshit I think about lands in my lyrics one way or another.” Jongdae finally looks up to see Junmyeon’s reaction. Nothing. “I’ve been trying to get an emotional response from you for years, you know.”  
Junmyeon puts down his chopsticks and gets up. “I’m sorry for not having any feelings whatsoever.” And leaves to his room.

His room is lit by sunlight when he wakes up the next morning. A woman, the woman, is sitting on the side of his bed. A cherry red dress. Junmyeon stares at the wonderful clear colour. It isn’t shaded, not desaturated or greyish tinted. Just red like a fresh cherry which he loved eating as a child.  
She pushes back the hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Why are you so sad, darling?”  
He shuts his eyes in disbelief. But the sun is burning through his eyelids, leaving a slight orange mark. When he opens his eyes again, she is gone.  
In seconds he is out of bed, and runs into the kitchen. Jongdae, who is preparing pancakes with cheese, turns around in surprise, spatula in one hand, pan in the other.  
“I just saw red.” Junmyeon says with his eyes wide.  
“Well, uh, are you bleeding?” Jongdae, visibly confused, puts down the pan.  
“No! No… There was the woman. She wore a red dress and sat on my bed” He is almost jumping up and down, Jongdae hasn’t seen him like this in a very long time.  
Smiling, Jongdae says, “You probably dreamt that. There is no one in our flat except me. I don’t wear red dresses and sit on your bed.”  
Frowning at Jongdae’s reaction, Junmyeon sits down at the kitchen island. Jongdae focuses on the pancakes again.  
The pancakes taste strong today, Junmyeon can’t remember them ever tasting this strongly. Today will be a less grey day. He just feels it.

Like magic, Junmyeon sees red everywhere. The flowers on the reception desk of the office, the glasses of his coworker, his coffee mug. His day passes so quickly, he doesn’t realise that the sun is already setting when he leaves the office again. A beautiful gradient of reds colours the sky as he walks out of the architecture office. Tired, but still not as gloomy as usual, he makes his way home. He doesn’t take his eyes off of the sky until the red vanishes completely.

Jongdae wears red socks and slides with them over the parquette of their living room. He is dancing to AC/DC, when Junmyeon comes home. Junmyeon smiles to himself. He goes to the fridge and takes out a beer, as Jongdae dances into the kitchen.  
“How, was, your, day?” He asks in between the beats of Van Halen’s Jump.  
Junmyeon fights back another smile. He won’t give in to this silly behaviour.  
“Okay, I guess. Beer?” He hands Jongdae the bottle but he declines, still dancing sillily to the beat. “Had too much already.”  
“Judging by your mood, you managed to finish a song today?” Junmyeon asks as he walks over to the living room. Six finished beer bottles are spread below the sofa table.  
“Yes. I’m going to the studio later, but I wanted to wait for you.” Jongdae collapses next to Junmyeon on the sofa and curls up.  
“Are you sure that you’re not too drunk?”  
“Nah, this is nothing.” He looks over to Junmyeon, who is fixated on his socks. After a while Jongdae asks, “What is it?”  
No answer for a few seconds.  
“They’re red.” But not just any red, crimson red. He looked at Jongdae. Jongdae’s cheeks where blushy from the alcohol.  
“Myeon, are you trying to be funny?” Misreading the situation, Jongdae leans over to Junmyeon and grins.  
“I’m being serious. I’ve been seeing red everywhere today.” Junmyeon gets up and leaves Jongdae behind on the sofa. As he did many times before. Jongdae watches him disappear into his room.

When Junmyeon crawls into his bed, he hears the apartment door close. He regrets having reacted like this to Jongdae. But Junmyeon kind of had been on edge for the past days. He can see red. In all variations, and Jongdae thought it was a joke…  
Before he falls asleep, he quickly sends Jongdae an apologetic message.

Junmyeon finds Jongdae passed out on the sofa the next morning. He is curled up in a ball and a blanket is messily hanging over his legs. Junmyeon pulls the blanket up to Jongdae’s shoulders. Jongdae’s face is relaxed, his eyes moving a little behind his eyelids. His lips are slightly parted. His hair is a mess.  
Junmyeon realises that his breakfast source is not available and starts scanning the kitchen for a bowl and cereal, while trying to operate the coffee machine. He notices the different kinds of reds on the coffee mugs in the shelf. The coffee machine beeps, and Junmyeon doesn’t know what to do. That’s why he usually goes to a café.  
Jongdae pops up behind him. His chaotic hair making him look even fluffier than usual. He is wearing a white shirt, boxer shorts and the most tired expression Junmyeon has seen in a long time. Without him asking, Jongdae presses a button on the coffee machine and it starts working.  
“Did you go drinking after the studio appointment?” Junmyeon leans back against the kitchen island. Jongdae frowns.  
“I didn’t record anything. They kicked me out because one of those teenie bands had priority.” He ruffles his hair and stretches to reach one of the mugs. He takes the one with the most red colours. He stares at it for a second before his eyes meet Junmyeon’s again. “I’m…”  
Junmyeon doesn’t demand him to continue speaking, he just looks at him hopefully.  
Jongdae sighs and speaks into his empty mug. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I know this colour thing is important to you.”  
Instead of answering, Junmyeon reaches out and pulls Jongdae into a hug. His right hand wanders to the back of Jongdae’s head, the other one around his small waistline. Jongdae’s hands wander up Junmyeon’s back.  
The coffee machine beeps again.  
Jongdae mumbles something into Junmyeon’s neck, which makes the latter shiver. Junmyeon pushes Jongdae back to get coffee.  
“You know....” Jongdae starts but trails off again. Junmyeon just looks at him until he continues speaking.  
“The whole colour thing inspired me to write a song. Red, like the colour of love.”  
“Well, that’s cheesy.” Junmyeon almost laughs. Jongdae hands him his coffee.  
“Yeah, I know. And coffee is the smell of love”, Jongdae says and inhales the scent of coffee in the kitchen. Junmyeon takes a sip and smiles into his mug.

Junmyeon decides to do some work from home that day and sits on the floor between sofa and table. His documents are piled next to his computer on the table. Jongdae is sitting on the balcony, probably freezing to death, but he says it’s his creative space. Junmyeon suspects he just likes fresh air and the dull noise of cars in the huge city.  
Junmyeon brings his focus back to his computer, but a splash of red colour behind it catches his attention.  
She’s back. Sitting on the floor on the other side of the table. Her red dress suits her. She smiles at him, but he doesn’t know how to react. Junmyeon steals a quick glance to Jongdae, but he is still sitting with the back towards him.  
“Do you not remember me, Junmyeon?” Her voice is like honey. Clear and sweet.  
He shakes his head.  
“It’s been a long time. You’re not doing as good as I had thought.”  
He doesn’t know how to react, so he instead leans back against the sofa. “What does this mean? How do you know me?”  
“You were able to see all those colours back then. Your days weren’t grey…” She trails off for a second and looks to the balcony.  
“We met on a summer day, in a field of flowers. Remember me, Junmyeon!” She grew more and more agitated with every word.  
Jongdae suddenly moves on the balcony and opens the door to come back in. Junmyeon panics. He doesn’t know how to even remotely explain the woman in their living room.  
Jongdae doesn’t seem to care and walks past them as if nothing was different. Junmyeon’s gaze follows Jongdae to the kitchen. When he turns back around, the woman is gone.  
He jumps up. She couldn’t possibly have vanished. He hadn’t heard the front door. He looks to the open balcony door.  
Impossible. This was the 21st floor.  
He storms outside. But no sign of a red dress, not even as he leans over the railing of the balcony.

Jongdae steps onto the balcony behind him. “Everything alright? You’re being weird.”  
Last time he had told Jongdae about the woman in red, he didn’t believe him. So now he just doesn’t say anything. He turns around and walks back inside past Jongdae.  
“You look like you need a damn hug,” Jongdae steps into their living room as Junmyeon sits down on the couch, still with a spaced-out expression.  
Jongdae expects no answer, so he just sits down next to Junmyeon and snuggles up to his side. Weirdly enough, Junmyeon doesn’t protest at all.

Junmyeon wakes up a couple hours later, with Jongdae’s head in his lap. Jongdae snores peacefully. Blood rushes into Junmyeon’s face, as he realises how close they were. He had been seriously lacking physical touch in the past years, except for the occasional hug from Jongdae. Who is now nuzzling Junmyeon’s stomach. Which doesn’t help the flushed face situation. Junmyeon leans his head back and hopes Jongdae doesn’t wake up until he had his blood back where it belonged.  
Jongdae shifts and opens his eyes, directly looking at Junmyeon.  
“I’ve just thought about something.” Jongdae says, a smile appearing on his face. Junmyeon tilts his head to the side.  
“You said, after you saw that woman in red, you can see red colour now. I want to help you see all the other colours.”  
“This is very nice of you, but I don’t know how.”  
“I think I do.” He sits up, and with a bright smile he leans his forehead against Junmyeons forehead.  
“This doesn’t help me see anything, Jongdae.”  
Jongdae snickers but then leans in to kiss him. Junmyeon doesn’t react at first because of his shock. But he notices the soft lips of Jongdae, slowly moving over his lower lip and kisses him back. Junmyeon’s hand wanders into Jongdae’s hair and holds him close.  
The kiss is too short in Junmyeon’s opinion. Jongdae gets up from the sofa to get into a more comfortable position.  
Junmyeon looks over to the balcony, patches of green covering the shelves. Fascinated, he stares at them. He always knew they were green, even though he had never really seen the actual colours. They looked kind of different now. Junmyeon almost laughs out loud. He had not expected to get this fast of a result from Jongdae’s shenanigans.  
“Kiss me again, Jongdae.”


	2. Green

When Junmyeon wakes up on the sofa the next morning, Jongdae is already sitting on the balcony. The plants next to him regained their greyish green colour. Maybe it had just been an illusion that they had changed the colour when Jongdae had kissed him. He briefly feels the sensation on his lips again, but it fades too fast.  
Junmyeon rubs his eyes and slowly gets up to walk over to the balcony door. It is freezing cold outside when he opens it. Shivering, he walks up to Jongdae.  
“You’ll get a cold.” Junmyeon says and looks down to his sitting friend. Boyfriend. A wave of confusion hits Junmyeon.  
Jongdae turns towards him and smiles. “Well, then you can baby me.”  
This only slightly throws him off guard, but he manages to keep his face straight. Junmyeon rolls his eyes, but refuses to react to this with words. “I need to go to work soon, don’t stay out here in only pyjamas.”  
In response, Jongdae just sticks his tongue out.

On his way to work, Junmyeon buys a little potted plant. Small enough that he can put it on his desk at work. He thinks that, maybe, he can train his eyes to spot colours other than red better. The cashier wears a red shirt, which almost blinds Junmyeon with its intensity.  
He names his new plant “hope”, remembering the green light in the Gatsby film he saw a little while ago. He didn’t actually see that it was green, but Gatsby, or rather the narrator of the story, said it a few times, so it stuck with Junmyeon.  
Junmyeon isn’t on coffee duty today, which helps his anxiety he has a lot lately. Sitting in front of a computer and correcting floor plan drawings without communicating is his favourite work.  
Floor plans are usually black and white, so he likes this work the most. And he is also the best at it. He is lost when it comes to visualisation and graphics. His boss almost beheaded him once for his poor choice of colour. But, what can you do...  
One of his female co-workers comments on his new plant and he fakes a smile. He doesn’t feel like smiling usually, but he knows he has to do it from time to time to not draw attention for acting weird. 

Jongdae calls him during lunch.  
“Someone from a record company wants to publish one of my songs,” Jongdae talks so fast, that Junmyeon has trouble keeping up. After a short moment of processing what Jongdae had just said, he jumps up from his seat.  
“Oh wow, I-” Junmyeon starts, but Jongdae doesn’t let him finish.  
“We’re going drinking tonight, I’m picking you up!” Jongdae is in such high spirits, it is hard to not feel happier, Junmyeon finds.  
Jongdae already ended the call, but Junmyeon still stares at his phone. Jongdae had been working for this for years now. Singer-Songwriter Kim Jongdae. His boyfriend was on his way to be as successful as he deserves to be. _ Boyfriend _ ?

The waiter brings the second bottle of soju. Jongdae and Junmyeon found themselves in a barbeque place after a long day of work. Junmyeon pours Jongdae the alcohol. Jongdae doesn’t really hold his alcohol well, so he is already tipsy. He has been mumbling about how lucky he is to have a supportive friend, which leaves Junmyeon blushed on the other side of the table.  
“Recently I noticed that you are smiling so much more,” Jongdae suddenly says a complete sentence and Junmyeon is interrupted from staring into his little soju glass. “It makes me so happy. Usually your eyes have this unsettling sadness in them and I just want to hug it away.”  
Jongdae leans his head onto his hand, head tilted and waiting for a response, staring down Junmyeon with his intense eyes. Junmyeon avoids them, but agrees. Jongdae is right, he has been a little happier lately. Maybe he can be happy for longer. He hopes.  
He takes the soju bottle into his hand, it’s a nice emerald green colour. Have they always been like this?  
“Well…” Junmyeon starts but immediately trails off. Jongdae focusses all his left over attention on him.  
At the table behind Jongdae, a women in a red dress sits, looking directly at him. He stares back at her.  
Jongdae turns around, to see what Junmyeon is looking at. But he can’t seem to find out what exactly he should look for.  
“What are you looking at?” Jongdae asks, genuine curiosity in his eyes.  
Junmyeon lowers his voice to a whisper. “It’s the woman.”  
Confused, Jongdae looks around the whole restaurant. Middle aged men in suits are drinking their alcohol, a group of male students are fighting with the barbeque tongs. Even the group of waiters chatting behind the counter doesn’t match what Jongdae is looking for.  
“You sure? There is no woman here...”  
Junmyeon looks to the table behind Jongdae again. The woman is gone. A red apron is hanging on the wall. What kind of weird trick is that?  
“Maybe we should stop drinking..?” Jongdae carefully asks, worried about his friend’s weird behaviour. Junmyeon shakes his head and gulps down his glass of soju.  
“We came here to celebrate that you’re officially a singer-songwriter now,” Junmyeon refills both their glasses. Something is off, he notices. Is it him? Is it Jongdae? 

Junmyeon needs all his strength to hold Jongdae up with one arm as he directs all his focus to typing in the security code to their apartment. Inside, he sits Jongdae down onto the step that leads into their apartment. Jongdae immediately leans against the wall. Junmyeon takes off his own shoes and then Jongdae’s. And then he sighs. It took him a second too long to figure out how to get Jongdae to the sofa, so Jongdae starts losing his balance. Junmyeon panics and pulls him up. Jongdae’s legs wrap around his waist.  
Careful not to bump into anything on the way, he carries Jongdae over to the sofa and puts him down. Junmyeon pushes Jongdae’s hair out of his face. Jongdae falls asleep almost immediately and nuzzles his face into Junmyeon’s hand. Junmyeon sits down between sofa and table, trying not to move his hand too much. He can see the balcony from there, the plants and herbs Jongdae tends to every day. The balcony light is dim but Junmyeon could see different kinds of green. One is a very bright green, another plant was darker, but still green. He vaguely remembers the colour of seaweed and patches of grass. For a brief moment, he forgets that Jongdae is sleeping next to him, and he lets out a laugh. He hadn’t heard his own laugh in years. He only remembers _almost_ laughing quite often.  
Jongdae shifts next to him, but he is still asleep. Maybe Junmyeon should sleep, too. 

The smell of sweet pancakes almost overwhelms Junmyeon the next morning. It was more intense than anything he had smelled in recent times. He is lying on the carpet next to the sofa. Jongdae must have thrown the mint coloured blanket over him some time in the night. He sits up and then realises that he didn’t know they had a mint coloured blanket.  
“Good morning sleepyhead,” Jongdae says from kitchen. He is already dressed and his hair is slightly wet from the shower he probably took. Junmyeon stretches and walks over to Jongdae to snuggle up to him and rests his chin on Jongdae’s shoulder.  
“Since when do we have a green spatula?” Junmyeon asks, eyeing the indeed green spatula in Jongdae’s hand. Jongdae is confused.  
“It’s always been green? We got this from Minseok when we moved in,” Jongdae leans his head against Junmyeon’s.  
“Myeon, you’re so weird lately. The woman. The colours. Are you alright?” Jongdae whispers and Junmyeon shivers.  
“You worry me a lot. I know how you deal with your mental problems alone and it pains me to see you suffer. But I accepted that you wanted to overcome this on your own. This is just so different than usual and I want to know what is going on.”  
Junmyeon removes his head from Jongdae’s shoulder. Jongdae remembers everything. Even when drunk. He is the type of person to meet you ten years in the future and accurately retell a conversation you once had about peanuts and their correlation with the cartoon of the same name.  
“I don’t think this is something you should worry about.” Junmyeon knows that Jongdae thinks long and hard about issues that don’t belong to him.  
“But I want to worry about it.” Jongdae rather talks to the pancakes than to Junmyeon.  
“Well…” Junmyeon trails off for a second, looking for words. “I actually think I am getting better.”  
Jongdae almost drops his spatula. And turns around. _Really?_ Written on his face. Junmyeon nods, but avoids eye contact.  
“I’ve been happier than usual, as you said. And also… I taste stuff more intensely. I-” Junmyeon looks over to the living room so that he doesn’t have to show his face.  
“It feels like a shadow is being lifted from my brain.” Junmyeon is now turning his back to Jongdae. He’s not a great talker. Especially when it comes to feelings, mainly his own.  
Jongdae slowly puts his arms around Junmyeon’s waist and hugs him from behind. Junmyeon puts his hands on Jongdae’s.  
The woman in red is sitting on the floor in the living room and smiling at them. The pancakes are burning on the stove. Junmyeon can see green and red. He realises that there must be more colours he never noticed. Two is an awfully small number judging by the colours his dreams and memories have. For the first time in ages, Junmyeon registers the smell of something smoking.  
“Jongdae….”  
“Hm…?”  
“The pancakes!”

They were able to avoid a larger disaster, but now their breakfast is basically non-existent. Junmyeon instead takes out milk and cereals. In the mundane ways people who don’t have a Jongdae have to eat normal breakfast, they do too. At least the coffee machine doesn’t cause any problems this morning.  
When the woman in the red dress walks into the kitchen, Junmyeon realises that Jongdae really cannot see her. She sits down next to Junmyeon, on the table. He tries not to look at her. With furrowed brows, he directs all his attention into his coffee cup. Jongdae notices his odd behaviour, but forces himself to not comment on it. That usually got him into a fight or into being ignored for hours.  
His force lasts about 5 seconds.  
“You know, visual hallucinations are actually less common than audible hallucinations.” Jongdae looks at Junmyeon, who still has half his face buried in his coffee mug. Junmyeon doesn’t answer. He is distressed, the woman in red is still sitting next to him, even though by now he had figured it out she must be some kind of hallucination. Or maybe, just maybe, Jongdae was the crazy one, for not seeing a woman in a red dress sitting on their kitchen table.  
She begins talking. At first it is inaudible because it mixes with what Jongdae is saying. But then Junmyeon notices, that she is repeating one sentence over and over.  
“Choose me.”  
It costs Junmyeon all of his willpower to not leave the kitchen table.  
“Choose me.”  
He puts his coffee mug down and tries to focus on what Jongdae is saying, but Jongdae’s words don’t reach him.  
“Choose me.”  
Junmyeon puts the mug down and grabs bits of his hair while leaning onto his elbows. Jongdae stretches out a hand and Junmyeon grabs it in despair.  
Jongdae opens his mouth, but Junmyeon can’t hear what he is saying. Jongdae’s usually calm face is distorted with worry and fear. He gets up, not letting go of Junmyeon’s hand and pulls him out of his chair into a hug, that blocks all his vision. Buried in Jongdae’s chest, Junmyeon starts sobbing, slowly at first. Then he cannot stop the tears. Jongdae’s hand caresses his head, his other hand holds Junmyeon against his chest.   
Dull, but still audible, words reach Junmyeon. Jongdae’s words. “I’m here, you’re safe.” 


	3. Yellow

Jongdae had put a flyer and a name card from a psychologist on Junmyeon’s desk. Junmyeon picks it up, reads the name and puts it to his unread mail. A flash of red moves inaudibly through the room and Junmyeon sighs. He doesn’t need a psychologist to tell him he has problems. As long as he isn’t falling apart, as long as he has Jongdae, it should be fine. He’s been trying to find out who the woman in red is. She seems vaguely familiar, like a distant memory, but nothing more. He doesn’t know her name or the relationship he has… had… with her. But without a name or a clear picture of her, he does not even know where to start looking for her, let alone, how he would explain it.  
Junmyeon hears Jongdae practicing one of his songs in the living room. The lyrics are uplifting, but have and underlying sadness. Like Jongdae is desperately trying to make him to feel better. Junmyeon smiles carefully. Being thought of was unfamiliar. It spread a warmth through him. Even after a few years of living with Jongdae, he is still taken aback by his thoughtfulness.   
Junmyeon joins Jongdae in the living room and sits down on the sofa. Jongdae is walking around, notes in his hand, singing line by line, stopping mid-motion, just to sing a tone a little differently. Junmyeon feels like drowning in Jongdae’s voice. It would be a wonderful place. A place without worries and without that woman in red; a place full of happiness and love. Junmyeon leans his head onto the backrest of the sofa and stares at the ceiling. Jongdae begins playing an imaginary piano as he sings along to his song. The melody flows from Jongdae’s lips like a river of champagne.   
Jongdae abruptly stops and Junmyeon moves his head to look at him, rapidly pulled out of his imaginary world. Jongdae stares at him as if he had just remembered something very important.  
“How are you feeling, Myeon?”  
“You stopped to just ask that?” Junmyeon tries a smile. A careful one, but it is reciprocated by Jongdae.  
“It’s important to me,” Jongdae walks behind the sofa to lean onto the backrest and to be closer to Junmyeon. “I was thinking about it. Since the kitchen thing happened... And I’m sorry I didn’t take the colour thing seriously. I couldn’t believe that a person cannot see any colour. But well, I think you have a weird case of colour blindness.” He speaks slowly, almost trying to make it vague, so it would not cause Junmyeon to flee the scene.   
Jongdae nudges a little closer to him, his arms crossed on the back rest. He is leaning slightly against the sofa. Junmyeon can smell something nice, like a summer night in a field of flowers. Daisies. It reminds him of his mother washing his school uniform. He hasn’t smelled anything like that in the past years. Or does he not remember?   
Still waiting for an answer, Jongdae leans in much closer, not realising that this is not helping his goal to receive a response. Junmyeon focuses on Jongdae’s shirt. It’s a soft green, no shadow over it. He avoids looking at Jongdae. He can feel a blush creeping up to his cheeks.  
Jongdae whispers, kindness in his voice, “When I met you, you barely even talked. I don’t expect an answer.”  
Junmyeon feels trapped and starts stuttering, but Jongdae pats his head. It’s okay. It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. Jongdae knows how to nonverbally communicate with Junmyeon, which most people don’t. They miss out quite a lot.  
Jongdae pushes himself up from the armrest and starts collecting his notes he had left scattered about the room.   
“Jongdae, I don’t even remember if your hair was black or blonde when we met the first time.” Junmyeon stares at his hands. “But you know, I’ve noticed that they might be blonde now. I’m not sure though.”  
Jongdae stops right in the middle of crouching down and stares at him.   
“Jongdae, I don’t even remember the colours that you wore. It’s just… not stored in there,” Junmyeon taps his head. Jongdae, relieved that his friend is talking, sits down on the floor, not far away from him. Junmyeon massages his temples, he can feel tears welling up. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Jongdae again. He wants to be the strong one for them. He doesn’t want Jongdae to take all this responsibility, like he is currently doing.   
Jongdae grabs on of his hands and starts massaging it with his thumbs. The papers are left scattered on the ground again, forgotten in favour of Junmyeon.  
“You don’t have to hold back in front of me, Junmyeon. I can handle it. You’re safe with me.”  
There it is again, this feeling of being at home. The warmth from inside, that keeps you warm even in the coldest winter. The feeling when you want to hug the whole world. For a brief moment, this is what Jongdae can give Junmyeon. 

When Junmyeon and Jongdae moved in together, it was raining. They had to carry all their furniture and boxes through the rain. Luckily most of the stuff fit into the elevator. Minseok was nice enough to help them, but he had to leave quickly. Work emergency. Which was quite common for doctors.   
Minseok was one of Jongdae’s old school friends, who helped them out from time to time, when they needed a responsible adult. They were adults but… not exactly people who had their lives together.  
Jongdae and Junmyeon hadn’t known each other for long, but they had went through some troubles that made them bond very fast. They noticed that they would fit well as flatmates, and since apartments in Seoul can be quite pricey, they decided to split the bill for their long-term housing.   
They weren’t mistaken about how well they would work as flatmates. Their schedules fit well together, since neither of them had a normal sleep cycle - or slept at all, to be fair. Jongdae was far cleaner than Junmyeon, but when they were both stressed by work, no one cared about the piles of paper waste that they collected around the living room. Junmyeon would occasionally lose a floor plan, just to find it with lyrics scribbled onto the back of it. Because Junmyeon more or less had a 9 to 5 job, Jongdae tended to the flat and got into the habit of collecting plants and herbs for their balcony. He just never realised that Junmyeon couldn’t tell the difference between the plants. They fought once. About something very minor and neither of them remembers now. Both of them were stressed by work and they had too much pent up inside of them. It was fine again the next day.  
During the 3 years Jongdae lived with Junmyeon, he picked up on his habits of mismatching colours in outfits or not finding stuff that was right in front of him. Junmyeon would occasionally talk in his sleep, sometimes even scream. Junmyeon couldn’t tell if he put sugar or salt into his coffee and even labelling the containers didn’t help. One time Junmyeon had left the stove on after cooking spaghetti, and didn’t even smell that something was burning. It had never dawned upon Jongdae that something was wrong with his flatmate, at least not to this extent. He knew Junmyeon was a mess of a human. In hindsight, he should have seen the signs of his mental problems.   
Jongdae decided to work from home more and more often, until it became a habit to make breakfast and go out for dinner with Junmyeon.   
Junmyeon rarely smiled. Or laughed. But when he did, it was beautiful. And Jongdae treasured every second of it, unsure when he would be able to see it again. At first, Jongdae would desperately try to make him laugh, but usually that didn’t work.   
Junmyeon’s laugh is genuine and that’s why Jongdae loves it so much. In an industry full of people who only want to be successful at any cost, genuine reactions are rare. 

Jongdae pulls Junmyeon up into a hug. Jongdae gives great hugs. Sometimes a good hug is all Junmyeon needs. He stops thinking whenever Jongdae hugs him or touches him, which is quite useful when you are the type of person to overthink everything. They just stand like this in their living room for a while.  
Jongdae is the first one to break the silence. “What about getting dinner together?”  
Junmyeon nods and leans his head against Jongdae’s just before breaking the hug.

They order their first serving of Rice-Wine of the night, which usually means they won’t go home until either of them is really drunk. Not today. Neither wants to drink too much. Because it clouds memories. That rarely happens to Jongdae, but nonetheless, he just wants to spend time with his friend outside of the apartment.   
Junmyeon pulls apart the Korean pancake with his chopsticks. He really has to put more focus into minor tasks when Jongdae is around. That man distracts him almost as soon as Junmyeon looks at him. Ever since that kiss, Junmyeon is confused. Jongdae keeps referring to him as “friend”, so that is probably what Junmyeon should do, too. But on the other hand… No. He is not the type of person to initiate a conversation about his feelings for his flatmate. Schrödinger’s principle serves him once again. As long as he doesn’t check, Jongdae both loves him and loves him not at the same time. But, does he even feel actual love for Jongdae? He hasn’t experienced that in a long time and…  
“I asked, do you want more Jeon*?” Jongdae smiles at him and points at the menu.   
Nineties-K-Pop is playing in the restaurant, and posters of long gone celebrities are plastered along the walls. A cover of a vinyl is stuck to the wall right next to Jongdae. Junmyeon nods, but doesn’t say which Jeon he wants. His thoughts are circling Jongdae, who deserves to be on a vinyl cover.   
Jongdae just orders the same one again, and, not surprisingly, more Rice-Wine.  
The light in the restaurant is dim, but not too dark. Jongdae’s hair reflects the light-rays it catches. The blonde really does suit him. It makes him look like a teddy bear. Next to Jongdae, a post-it is stuck to the wall. The yellow colour almost screams at Junmyeon.   
Mesmerised by this colour he hadn’t seen in such a long time, he forgets to eat. Jongdae reminds him, by pouring him some rice-wine. The can it came in is golden. Junmyeon stares at Jongdae.  
“I… Why am I seeing yellow?” Junmyeon stares at the can Jongdae is lifting.  
“Maybe you’re just very happy right now, you lovely idiot.” Jongdae chuckles and pours the rest of the rice-wine for Junmyeon, who is already a shade of red thanks to the alcohol, and doesn’t have to hides his face this time.  
“Tell me what you can see, Junmyeon.” Jongdae says and takes a sip of his rice-wine. Junmyeon hesitates a little.  
“Well, there’s the yellow post-it next to you.” He points at it and Jongdae turns around to take it off the wall. He looks for a pen in his jacket that he had carelessly thrown over a chair. He writes down today’s date. Junmyeon can see yellow again. He sticks it back to the wall.   
Junmyeon smiles. “Also, the Rice-wine can is golden… And your hair is definitely blond. It suits you. The colour.”   
Jongdae looks to the side and fumbles the pen back into his jacket, hiding his face. Junmyeon notices his teary eyes, that Jongdae tries to hide with his bangs with little success.   
“Don’t you dare cry, Kim Jongdae,” Junmyeon almost laughing and Jongdae looks up, smiling and wiping away the tears that had started forming in his eyes.   
“It’s happy tears,” Jongdae extends his arm to grab Junmyeons hand and smiles a smile that almost blinds Junmyeon.  
That must be the sunshine he had missed so much.

This time it is Jongdae who carries Junmyeon home. Junmyeon can still walk, but keeps stumbling and falling over his own feet. As a precaution, Jongdae has a firm grip around his flatmate. Junmyeon feels the warmth of Jongdae’s hand close to his waist that is grabbing the fabric of his shirt and pressing him into Jongdae’s side.   
With a bit of luck, Junmyeon doesn’t throw up in the elevator and Jongdae manages to get them into their flat without major injuries. Junmyeon might’ve bumped into the elevator wall. And into the doorframe of his room.  
Jongdae sits Junmyeon down on the bed carefully, so that they don’t fall over. Junmyeon is already half asleep when he notices that Jongdae is opening the buttons of his shirt. He looks up into Jongdae’s eyes.   
“What are you doing?” Insecurity waves into his words as he speaks them.  
“You’re gonna be hella annoying tomorrow and ask me to iron this shirt if you sleep in it.” Jongdae laughs while opening the rest of the buttons. Junmyeon feels his fingers brush along his naked skin. He shivers for a second and suddenly everything is clear. The darkness of the room doesn’t feel heavy anymore, Jongdae’s presence makes him feel at ease. He sinks into the bedsheets and is suddenly so very happy and so very tired at the same time. Jongdae brushes the hair out of his face and watches him snuggle into his pillow.  
“I love you.”   
“You idiot.” Jongdae says softly. He smiles and lies down on the other side of the bed, fully clothed but… whatever.

The first thing Junmyeon sees, or rather, hears, is a softly snoring Jongdae next to him on his bed. It’s a cute snore, not the annoying snore. He didn’t even pull the covers over himself last night. What an idiot.   
A sharp pain shoots through Junmyeon’s head. Alcohol is not his friend. He makes a mental note on that. He’ll probably ignore that the next time though.   
Jongdae moves a little and opens his eyes, to see Junmyeon, face down in his pillow. Jongdae ruffles Junmyeon’s hair and the other slowly turns his head into his direction.   
“You okay?” Jongdae smiles his kitty smile and Junmyeon’s brain empties itself completely. He blinks twice until he realises that he should answer the question.  
“Headache. What did we do yesterday?” He speaks slowly, still tired.  
“You… don’t remember?” Jongdae’s smile fades at first, but then it turns into a grin. Junmyeon shakes his head into the pillow.  
“Okay, so first we went drinking.”   
“Yeah that I remember.”  
“And then you were so drunk that i had to carry you home, lightweight.” Jongdae chuckles.  
“I don’t remember that.”  
“And then I put you into bed and undressed you and then we fucked.” Jongdae can’t hide his grin, but luckily Junmyeon decided to shoot up in bed and stare in shock at the wall. His posture relaxes after a few seconds.  
“You’re still fully dressed, idiot. This doesn’t make sense.” He turns to look at Jongdae and realises that he isn’t wearing his shirt. He quickly hides behind the blankets. Jongdae sits up and moves close to Junmyeon.   
“You’re right. But you…” He trails off mid-sentence.   
Junmyeon looks at him, his head tilted a little, waiting for Jongdae to finish. He doesn’t.  
Instead, he leans closer. Junmyeon notices how Jongdae looks at his lips and then, quickly, as if he was caught in the act, looks back into Junmyeon’s eyes.   
Junmyeon’s brain stops working for a millisecond, when Jongdae’s lips meet his. And then it explodes into a firework of sensations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Korean savoury Pancake, usually eaten alongside Makkeoli (rice-wine)  
> Please drink responsibly!


	4. Grey

It is raining. He is on a big street, but there is no sounds of cars, even though he can see them around him. There is no sound at all. Not even the sound of people talking or the rain hitting puddles on the ground. The day had started out with sunshine. How had he gotten here?  
His vision is tilted to the side and his point of view is much lower than usual. As if he were the size of a mouse. He realises that he is lying on the ground, the rain is dripping onto him, but he doesn’t feel it. In fact, he doesn’t feel anything. He tries to move his limbs, but no command seems to reach them. A wave of panic is rushing down his spine and he frantically looks around, but only his eyes move. What is happening to him?  
Someone is running over to him as he begins to lose his vision. Patches of black cloud his surroundings. Someone squats down in front of him, hectically dialling on a mobile. He can’t see the face. The someone is wearing nice shoes though, and suit pants. Junmyeon’s vision shakes. It must be the person squatting in front of him, trying to keep him awake.   
He tries to answer, nothing comes out of his mouth. To the left side of his rapidly shrinking field of vision, he sees a woman, lying on the ground. She is wearing a white dress, covered in patches of blood. Passersby are rushing towards her as he loses the last one of his senses. 

He wakes up because of a nerve wrecking beeping sound. His body feels numb, and his left leg hurts like hell. He tries to sit up even though there is a sharp pain rushing through his whole body. The nurse that walks by notices him moving and comes back with a doctor soon afterwards. They are accompanied by a man in a suit and very ruffled hair.   
The doctor asks Junmyeon some questions about what he remembers, who he was with. Junmyeon tells him everything he remembers, but his brain feels as if someone had played baseball with it. The man in the suit remains in the room after the doctor had left. He looks handsome, even though sleep deprivation had made his eyes darker and the suit he is wearing is wrinkled.  
“Hi. My name is Jongdae,” he scratches the back of his head and avoids direct eye contact. “I was kind of worried about you, so I wanted to wait until you woke up. I’m glad you’re okay.”  
He forces a smile and Junmyeon can tell something is weird about him. But he reciprocates the greeting.  
“Can I stay for a while, would you mind that?” Jongdae asks and gestures to a chair next to the bed.   
“No, I don’t mind. Company is fine, I guess,” Junmyeon says and watches him sit down awkwardly in the chair.  
“Well… You should know,” Jongdae starts. He takes a deep breath and scoots to the very edge of the chair before saying, “Miss Jeon Seoyun died. She was in the car with you.”   
All the blood rushes out of Junmyeon’s head. Good thing that he is lying down, otherwise he might have fainted. Junmyeon closes his eyes. This is not real. This is not real. Not his Seoyun. Not her.   
He can feel his heart breaking into a million tiny pieces, accompanied by a very sharp physical pain in his heart region. His EKG spikes up for a second, but returns to normal after that. Jongdae moves in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position, but there is none.  
“She was fatally wounded by the impact of the truck.” And then, “I am so sorry.”   
“Get out.” Junmyeon took all his remaining strength to sound forceful, but it sounded like a pathetic whisper.  
Jongdae reluctantly stands up and leaves slowly. “I called your friend Sehun. He’s the only one in your contacts besides Seoyun, so I guessed he is your emergency contact… I couldn’t reach him though.”  
Junmyeon glares at him until he finally leaves the room.   
And then he cries himself to sleep, clutching his chest.

He spends weeks, months in the hospital, and Jongdae comes to visit him often, but never again in a suit.   
He can hear Jongdae talk to the doctors about his mental state, and that he was behaving out of the ordinary sometimes. He couldn’t see colours anymore. Junmyeon had noticed that already. He didn’t care.   
Jongdae tried to make him smile or laugh, but to no avail. He just didn’t feel like he deserved to be happy. But why?   
He can’t pinpoint the cause anymore. A woman in a red dress sometimes comes to visit him. She looks familiar, but he doesn’t know where he knows her from. She would sit by his bed at night, when the hospital was sleeping. She has this calm aura around her, that makes Junmyeon relax. But still, sleep doesn’t come easy to him.The woman in red tries to tell him something every night that she visits him, but her voice sounds like it’s behind three layers of thick glass. No words reach Junmyeon, only a faint mumble.  
One time he asked Jongdae about her, but he had responded that there were no visitors beside him. After a while, Jongdae’s visits become more frequent and Junmyeon actually starts to like his company. Sometimes Jongdae would sing his newest songs to Junmyeon, and he likes them, but he feels like he is forgetting something, every time he hears Jongdae sing. A distant memory maybe. It gives him a headache, the longer he tries to think about it.

He sits in his car, the first day after being discharged, and has an anxiety attack so severe he almost collapses. He never had felt something like that before. His lungs forget how to breath, his heart speeds up, his sight gets fuzzy. Everything starts to turn.  
Jongdae is next to him, again, and drives him home. To Junmyeon’s tiny studio apartment, somewhere up on a hill in Seoul. It is pure chaos. Jongdae decides that it would be best for Junmyeon not to be alone, which Junmyeon finds ridiculous. But nonetheless he agrees to share a flat with Jongdae, which means not paying as much rent anymore.   
He had lost his job through an unlucky clause in his working contract, which means he had received no money at all for the time he had had to stay at the hospital. With basically no money, Junmyeon at least has a friend.  
They move in together and Junmyeon and Jongdae spend hours looking for a job for Junmyeon. Junmyeon is really grateful for Jongdae’s help, so the first thing he does when he gets his new job and his first paycheck, is to buy Jongdae a really fancy dinner. 

The everyday life begins again for both of them. Jongdae rushes in and out of the flat in the 21st floor and Junmyeon commutes to work and back. The routine slowly grows on Junmyeon and commuting by subway also was easier on him than driving a car. Occasionally he would spot patches of red in the crowd of the metro. A little girl with a red hair tie. A little boy playing with an iron man figurine. In those moments he misses the woman in red. The red dress, which he could see clearly, not shaded. Sometimes he thinks she walks past her and when he hears that woman in the café laugh, he is sure it must be her. That clear and pure laugh, that he hadn’t heard in three years. It hurts his heart. And simultaneously, it lights up his whole world for a brief second.

Junmyeon wakes up, dried tears on his face. He notices a weight on the other side of his bed, and turns. Jongdae is sleeping peacefully, curled up. He has a slight smile on his face.  
Junmyeon panics. The woman in red is standing behind the bed. He sits up rapidly. He can’t see the yellow undertones in Jongdae’s hair, nor the can he tell the difference between Jongdae’s shirt’s colour or the bedsheets. His colours are gone. He touches Jongdae’s shoulder, at first lightly. Jongdae doesn’t respond to that, so he increases his strength, almost shaking him. When wakes up, Jongdae immediately notices the distress in Junmyeon’s eyes and grabs his hand, before he is even fully awake.   
“What’s going on?” Jongdae asks, his eyebrows raised in worry.   
“Seoyun is back,” Junmyeon whispers. Jongdae tilts his head, confused, but Junmyeon can see in his facial expression when Jongdae realises. Junmyeon had remembered the name of the lady in red. Finally. A sign of relief appears on Jongdae’s face. Only briefly, but long enough for Junmyeon to be confused and in panic.   
Jongdae knows the severity of the situation almost instantly.  
“Junmyeon, listen to my voice okay,” Jongdae says and makes Junmyeon focus on his eyes. “She is not real. Your mind is making her up. There is no one in this room.”   
Junmyeon’s eyes wander to the red patch behind Jongdae. Jongdae sighs almost inaudibly.   
“But she’s right behind you.”  
Jongdae sits up on his heels, to look Junmyeon directly into his eyes. He grabs his shoulders.   
“Okay, focus all your attention on her then. Describe every detail.” Jongdae’s eyebrows rise in worry, but he doesn’t know what else to do.  
Junmyeon tries his hardest to focus on the fuzzy red person.   
“She has long hair and pale skin.”   
“More.” Jongdae speaks slowly and in a low voice.  
“She has glazed eyes. As if she was in a trance.”  
“More.”  
“She smiles a lot. It’s kind of creepy, but beautiful.”   
“Is there something unusual?”  
Junmyeon stops. He almost stops breathing as he focuses on her dress.  
“It’s not red.”  
“What colour is it?” Jongdae asks calmly, sliding his hands up and down Junmyeon’s shoulders to relax him.  
“It’s blood.” He starts shaking, wants to break away from Jongdae’s grip. Jongdae’s determination and his arms are too strong for Junmyeon. He holds him in place.  
“Is there more..?”  
Junmyeon averts his eyes from her at first, but Jongdae nudges him slightly. Junmyeon gathers up all his left over willpower to look back at the woman in red.  
“All of her neck is covered in blood… Her hair is sticky with blood, too.” Junmyeon states. And then he panics again. “We need to get her to the hospital, you drive!”   
Junmyeon jumps up, but is pulled down again immediately by Jongdae.  
“Listen to me now, Junmyeon.” Jongdae yanks Junmyeon’s chin to make him look at him.  
“The person you are seeing is Seoyun. That’s correct.”  
Junmyeon’s expression is frozen.  
“She is your girlfriend, who died in a horrible car accident three years ago. I was nearby the crash site back then. I called the ambulance. I went with you to the hospital as they took you and your girlfriend into the ambulance. I told you that she died of her injuries. Almost as soon as we arrived at the hospital. Do you remember, finally..?” It was more like a statement to himself, than a question.  
Junmyeon is stupefied. Too many memories are crashing down on him at once. The women in red fades, but Junmyeon only notices way afterwards.   
He sinks into Jongdae’s arms and rests his forehead onto Jongdae’s shoulder.  
And he just cries. For Seoyun. For himself. For the colours he lost again.  
Jongdae pulls him close into a hug, caressing his back and stroking his hair until the sobs recede and Junmyeon just leans onto him without any power left.   
Jongdae puts Junmyeon back to bed and wants to leave, but Junmyeon grabs his hand.   
“I don’t want to be alone right now. What if she comes back?” He doesn’t look at Jongdae, his voice is almost gone from all the crying. Helplessly, he curls up into the blankets.   
Jongdae finally moves after what feels like an eternity to Junmyeon. To his surprise, Jongdae lies down behind him and snuggles up to his back. Jongdae’s hands are gripping firmly around Junmyeon’s torso. Jongdae is warm and strong. Strong enough to hold Junmyeon’s life together at this moment.   
“I’ll always be there for you, Myeon,” Jongdae whispers into Junmyeon’s neck and tears start flowing out of Junmyeon’s eyes again. He wishes that he could stop crying, but his willpower is too low, so he just brushes them away with his sleeve, upset about his weak state.

He spends the next week almost never leaving his bed. Jongdae still makes breakfast and lunch and sometimes dinner, but most of the time he spends cuddled up to Junmyeon. When Jongdae needs to go buy groceries at one point, he is on the phone with Junmyeon the whole time he is out of the house.   
He makes Junmyeon keep a basic hygienic routine, which Junmyeon would probably have dropped, if Jongdae wouldn’t force him into the shower every other day.   
Jongdae also makes him eat. At least a bite. Then half a pancake. By the end of the week, Junmyeon still doesn’t really have an appetite, but his hunger was stronger. With every day that Junmyeon seemed to eat more and resist less to showering, Jongdae becomes more relaxed.   
They are cuddling in Junmyeon’s bed a lot, which seems to be working for calming Junmyeon down, as soon as his anxiety starts welling up. Junmyeon is almost used to constantly having two arms around him and Jongdae’s body being close. He still can’t see colours though, and he misses it so much.


	5. Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe grab a box of tissues... my heart hurt while writing this

Junmyeon decides to go back to work on his own, after almost a week of lying in bed. Jongdae is relieved, although not much. Junmyeon has become quiet. Quieter than usual, that unsettling silence right before a storm, when not even birds chirp and you can hear your own blood rushing through your veins.

“I’ve arranged your wardrobe, left side is black and white, the right side is colours. Grab one of each and your outfit should be fine,” Jongdae says during a very quiet pancake breakfast. Junmyeon had stopped putting blueberry jam on his about two days ago. Jongdae is worried if Junmyeon is losing his appetite.  
Junmyeon’s outfit is painfully mismatched, but Jongdae doesn’t have enough energy to get him new clothes to wear. 

When Jongdae comes home at night from stressful work in the studio, Junmyeon is already asleep. At least, there is no light on. Jongdae is exhausted and walks into Junmyeon’s bedroom, only to flop down on the large bed. He falls asleep instantly. Junmyeon shifts a little and turns his back to him.

Jongdae and Junmyeon didn’t have a conversation longer than two sentences for the whole week. Jongdae starts to worry. But was he in a position to point this out? His boyfriend had lost something and gained a pain in its stead. Jongdae can’t imagine what Junmyeon is going through. Should he at least try? Would Junmyeon even answer?

Jongdae tries to point out to Junmyeon how worried he is. “Is everything okay? At work? And… why are you not talking to me? How can I be there for you? Can you at least talk to me?” Despair.  
For the first time ever, Junmyeon shouts at Jongdae. He throws his floor plans at Jongdae.   
“No! Leave me alone!” Junmyeon’s voice breaks halfway through his shouting.  
Jongdae stands still, his limbs not responding. That hurt. 

The words ring in Jongdae’s ears for days. He tries to avoid Junmyeon, but his conscience tells him to not let go. Hold onto him. Hold tight, Kim Jongdae. 

When Jongdae comes home late, he sleeps in Junmyeon’s bed. Junmyeon usually gets up before him, takes a shirt from the left and a pair of trousers from the right side of the wardrobe. For the past two days, he didn’t even wait for the pancake breakfast. 

Junmyeon lost some weight. Jongdae makes a mental note to keep track of Junmyeon’s eating habits, which is harder than he thought. Junmyeon spends most of his time at work now, comes home late and leaves again before breakfast. As if he was avoiding Jongdae by working more. Junmyeon still doesn’t talk much. Good mornings and how are yous have become so rare, that Jongdae is surprised when Junmyeon smiles at him one morning and asks for the pancakes. One of the good days.

Jongdae had started reading on mental illness and depression, but all the information only makes him doubt his own sanity. Instead of reading into it further, he tries talking to Junmyeon again. But not about the important things. Trivial smalltalk. Conversations that wouldn’t corner Junmyeon. On good days it’s a longer conversation. On the bad…

Junmyeon at least keeps a hygiene routine. Jongdae had read that usually people with depression tend to not even have energy to get out of bed. Junmyeon gets up, showers, sometimes eats a little pancake and goes to work, like a record player on repeat. Junmyeon also brings more work home. Two large rolls of floor plans occupy half his bedroom, and when Jongdae finds Junmyeon out of his room, he is in front of his computer, drawing construction line after construction line. Jongdae doesn’t really see this as a good sign. Something is off. The titanic might have hit the iceberg. 

“Junmyeon. Talk to me. How was your day?”  
“Good. Finished a project.”  
“And?”  
“Nothing. Good night. Don’t sleep in my bed, okay?”  
No, this is not okay. Jongdae bites his lip instead of saying it.

Junmyeon works late at night, past midnight, when Jongdae comes home from the recording studio. The light in Junmyeon’s room is still on and Jongdae decides to fall into Junmyeon’s bed once again.   
Junmyeon sits with his back to the bed at his desk. “You have your own bed.”  
Jongdae sits up immediately. “I can’t sleep alone. Neither can you.”  
“Why would you think I’m sleeping? I know you’ve been coming home late… Just because I turn my lights off...”  
“Why can’t you sleep?”  
“As soon as I close my eyes, I see her.” Junmyeon says matter-of-factly. He turns around in his desk chair to face Jongdae. “But you know what, Kim Jongdae. You’re not my therapist. Sleep in your own bed.”  
“Therapists don’t sleep in other people’s beds. I sleep here because I’m your boyfriend,” Jongdae’s voice becomes louder with every word. He almost shouts at the end.   
“Leave.”

Every time Jongdae sees Junmyeon close to the balcony, his heart drops. As a precaution, because he still cannot look into Junmyeon’s mind, he hid all knifes, scissors and cutters, which was quite hard because Junmyeon had around ten x-acto knives lying around. But on the other hand… Would Junmyeon really..?  
Doubt washes over Jongdae like a cold shower. He had no idea, how bad it actually was for Junmyeon or how close he was to giving up. When they had been in the hospital, when his girlfriend had died, Junmyeon had been close to giving up. Jongdae couldn’t have told whether or not Junmyeon was mentally stable or not. It’s not that Jongdae is not an empathetic person. It’s Junmyeon who knows when to hide his feelings. Hold tight, Kim Jongdae.

Jongdae sleeps on the couch, where he can see Junmyeon’s bedroom door. He can hear him toss and turn around, he wants to go over to him and hug him to sleep. But he is afraid of rejection once again. Every harsh word Junmyeon had said still burns like hot ashes on his skin. He tries to remember when Junmyeon had smiled at him the last time. It must’ve been some days. He tries to remember the time Junmyeon had smiled freely. Dinner together, when he had told him he could see colour… Jongdae stares at the ceiling. He hadn’t been able to write a song in the past weeks. Nothing felt right. Jongdae feels tears burning on his cheeks and he cries himself to sleep. 

“Get your shit together, Kim Junmyeon. You can’t keep living like this!” Jongdae stops Junmyeon from leaving without breakfast again.  
“Who are you to say this to me?” Coldness.   
“I’m worried you’re gonna overwork yourself. It hurts to see you like this!” Jongdae tries for a soft voice, but he is shaking.  
“Like this what?” Junmyeon stops in his tracks and turns around. “Are you criticising my general character?”  
Jongdae doesn’t know what to answer. Junmyeon leaves for work. Again without breakfast.

When Junmyeon comes back from work it’s way after 11pm. Jongdae is lying on the sofa, trying to write a song. To his surprise, Junmyeon doesn’t retreat into his room right away. He sits down at the end of the sofa, where Jongdae’s feet are rested on a pillow.   
“I’m sorry, Jongdae. Please don’t worry about me too much.” He doesn’t look at Jongdae, but at his hands in his lap. He looks like a dog someone had left outside in the rain.   
“It’s my job to worry about you.” Jongdae sits up and scoots over to Junmyeon.  
Still not looking at Jongdae, Junmyeon asks, “would you sleep in my bed tonight?”  
Jongdae smiles at him and takes his hand. “Of course I will.”   
Junmyeon still isn’t looking at him.  
Jongdae snuggles up to Junmyeon, who is lying with the back to him in the bed. Jongdae knows he is still awake, even though it’s pitch black in the room. Junmyeon shifts a little so that Jongdae can come even closer.   
“I’m sorry, Jongdae. You don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.” It’s a mere whisper, but Jongdae catches every word.  
“You deserve the whole world, Kim Junmyeon. More than that.” And Jongdae holds tight onto Junmyeon, until both fall asleep. 

It’s raining. Junmyeon hasn’t come home from work yet. It’s already past midnight. Jongdae paces about the room before he grabs his jacket and an umbrella and storms outside. While leaving the apartment, he repeatedly tries to call Junmyeon, but he doesn’t pick up his phone. Jongdae starts jogging, checks the park close to their apartment. Junmyeon isn’t there.   
Even though Jongdae has an umbrella, he is getting wet. The wind is too strong for the umbrella and he tosses it aside after struggling with it for a mere second.   
Out of breath, he stops in front of the bridge over the river. Junmyeon wouldn’t-  
Without thinking further, Jongdae runs up the stairs to the bridge, every step pinching needles into his stomach. The bridge railing lights up as he runs past it. Reassuring words written on it flying by like landscapes past a moving train. One of the railing lights in the middle of the bridge is lit, and Jongdae tries to run faster. But his lungs are burning, his legs hurt and tears stream down his face. The wind and the rain make it almost impossible to see, but he recognises a familiar yellow jacket.   
He is sitting on top of the railing, his legs dangling over water. No cars drive by at this hour of day. It is perfectly quiet. A breath of air messes up his hair.  
Jongdae stops a few metres away from Junmyeon. Takes a breath. His lungs hurt even more but he has to walk the last metres. Calm himself down. It’s not working. His heart beats against his ribcage and he clutches his chest. Junmyeon turns to him at the sound of Jongdae’s panting.  
He climbs down the railing and walks over to Jongdae. Before he can halt, Jongdae embraces him and buries his face in his shoulder. He is shaken by a wave of sobs.   
Junmyeon holds him and caresses his back.  
“What were you doing?” Jongdae asks into Junmyeon’s shoulder, after his sobbing had subsided a little.  
“Having some peace and quiet.” Junmyeon answers. And then, because Jongdae’s sobs got stronger again, he said, “I would’ve never jumped.” 

The sofa has never been this comfortable as at that moment when Jongdae could hold his Junmyeon in his arms, a blanket covering them from the cold. The storm is still raging outside.   
“I thought about how I’ve been ugly to you,” says Junmyeon the next morning.   
“Babe, you’re never ugly to me.”   
“Not helpful.” Junmyeon bites his lip to control his smile. “I realised that…”  
Jongdae stares at him in wait for a sentence.  
“I realised that I can’t keep dealing with my mental problems like this. Work distracts me, but it doesn’t solve anything.”  
Jongdae smiles and brushes a hand through Junmyeon’s hair.   
“I will help you with everything I can.” Jongdae says and smiles. “I love you.”  
“I know. That’s why I wouldn’t ever jump.” Junmyeon snuggles closer to Jongdae and closes his eyes in Jongdae’s embrace. “I thought about this while I sat on the bridge. Who would miss me? You would, I guess.”  
“Don’t guess, Junmyeon. I would miss you so much, you can’t even imagine.” He takes a deep breath to suppress his tears. 

Junmyeon is standing on the balcony, his arms supported on the handrail, slightly bend forward. Jongdae heart drops to his knees, a strangely familiar feeling. But instead of looking down, what Jongdae would have expected, Junmyeon is looking almost up into the sky. Jongdae steps onto the balcony, but Junmyeon only reacts when Jongdae stands next to him. Tears are flowing down Junmyeon’s cheeks and Jongdae panics. Jongdae takes his sleeve and brushes away his tears.   
“What’s it?”   
“Has the sky always been so beautiful?”  
Jongdae looks up. He could see the Han River between the other apartments, and a blinding blue sky. “I think so.”  
Jongdae holds his arms open and Junmyeon almost falls into his embrace.


	6. Colours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

The thing about love… it’s not always being able to heal completely, but to have someone to go through the process with you. In hindsight, without Jongdae none of this would have worked. Sometimes it’s enough to have someone who holds you close during your hardest times.   
Junmyeon sits on the floor by the sofa table and paints. Watercolour-Therapy, Jongdae calls it. If Junmyeon focuses hard enough, he can see the colours on his paper. On some days his paintings are just random colours which don’t really fit together, on other days, it almost looks as if he can see all the colours again. He produces flowerfields and rainbows.   
Jongdae sits on the sofa and writes a song. At least he seems to do so, his gaze shifts from his paper to Junmyeon far too often. Junmyeon knows he is being watched and smiles into his painting.   
“You look really cute like this,” Jongdae says and puts his paper onto the table.   
“I’m trying super hard to concentrate on colours. Don’t you dare make me blush, Mister Kim.” He gestures with his brush.  
Jongdae starts laughing. “You have some pink on your nose.”  
Junmyeon’s blood shoots into his face and he hides a smile by quickly looking down onto his painting.   
“How often are you seeing her lately?” Jongdae asks to move the conversation away from awkwardness.   
“Not much. She occasionally visits me. On the bad days you know.” He lowers his voice. “But,” he looks at Jongdae directly, “I have you, so it’s fine.”   
His dashing smile.  
“I’ll never leave you alone, you idiot.” Jongdae says, a heartfelt undertone swinging in his voice. He is so in love, he can barely hide it. Junmyeon looks out of the window. The sun is shining brightly, even though it’s monsoon season. Junmyeon notices how Jongdae’s skin shines in the sunlight that is falling through the window.   
“You’re wearing a really nice yellow shirt today, my sunshine.”  
Jongdae hides his face. “Can you be any more cheesy?”  
“Your skin shines like the gold of a long lost treasure.”   
Jongdae falls sideways onto the sofa, laughing. Grinning, Junmyeon stands up and occupies the space next to Jongdae on the sofa.  
He lies down next to him and snuggles into his shoulder. Jongdae folds his arms around him.   
“I wish we could stay in this moment forever,” mumbles Junmyeon.  
“But then we can’t make new memories,” Jongdae ruffles Junmyeon’s hair. “I love you, Junmyeon.”  
“I love you more.”  
“This is so cheesy.”  
“You are cheesy.”  
“Stop saying this word.” Jongdae tightens his embrace around Junmyeon.  
Sometimes healing means being close to the people who love you. Sometimes it means to be silly with them. And sometimes it means to have pink watercolour on your nose.  
Jongdae is that person. The person to hold Junmyeon at night when he has nightmares.   
Junmyeon is that person. The person to push Jongdae to strive to be the best version of himself.   
Soulmates don’t always need to have the same interests. Sometimes they just fit together like the tiny parts of a carefully crafted clockwork. Running forward, hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who supported me through writing this.  
> A special thanks goes out to my loyal readers, who wrote motivating comments.  
> This is the first draft of this story, which means i will come back later to it and correct some issues with it. I will post the final version as download, but it will take some time.  
> Until then.   
> Thank you again,  
> Sissi


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